Misplaced
by EldestIrish
Summary: Who actually remebers to say Percy's name when they list the members of the Weasley clan?


The shouting had already begun downstairs and it was only half past seven. Twin thuds slammed into his door, jarring him from the doze he had managed to fall into. Percy rolled onto his belly, dragging the covers over his head in attempt to block out the noise of his family. It didn't seem to matter that he wanted to sleep because four more sets of feet paraded past his room at top volume. Percy sighed as he reached out a hand for his glasses, figuring that trying to get more sleep would be a fruitless venture. He sat up in bed, surveying his small, but tidy, room. Every other room in the Burrow was packed to bursting with the family's things. However, the 10 year old liked to keep all of his own possessions in his room, so there was no chance they could be destroyed. Glasses firmly pressed into the bridge of his nose, Percy swung his legs out of his bed and placed his feet on the floor. A few quick steps brought him across his small room. Percy placed his hand on the doorknob and waited. He took a few breaths before turning the knob and entering the fray of breakfast.

The kitchen was utter chaos. Plates of food covered the table and a few hovered above, waiting for a spot to open up. Ginny, his only sister, was five, but still sat in her highchair. Mrs. Weasley had decided this was the best course of action when the little girl had gotten lost in a particularly hectic dinner one night. Percy honestly liked Ginny the best out of all his siblings because she didn't goad him for being neat and tidy. She loved to come and sit in his room to listen to a story. But Percy knew it was only a matter of time before the others influenced her and then Ginny would point and laugh, just like Ron, George and Fred had done.

Percy reached for a clean plate, only to find the cupboard empty. So he grabbed a napkin instead, figuring that a couple pieces of toast and an egg would make a good sandwich. He walked over to the table, watching his feet so he didn't step in anything. Once at the table, Percy was noticed by his family. He saw their subtle shifting as they worked to close any holes where he might be able to fit. His mother, however, didn't notice and just waved cheerily at him. Percy tried to give her a smile, but it felt weak on his own face. The 10 year old quickly assembled his breakfast and fled back to his room.

Once back in his room, Percy sagged against the door, drawing strength from wood. He was thankful that it had never given up or broken, despite the constant abuses it took. Placing his breakfast on the top of the dresser, he opened the drawers to pull out his day clothes. Jeans and a long sleeve replaced his pajamas and a Weasley jumper topped it all off. Percy hurriedly stuffed one of his new books up the front of his jumper and crossed his arms to hold it place. He exited his room quietly, breakfast forgotten.

The family had left the kitchen and the dishes were doing themselves in the sink. Percy grabbed the last few remaining pieces of bacon off the table, not wanting to trundle back up the stairs to retrieve his forgotten sandwich. Tiptoeing past the living room, he saw his family semi-circled around the fireplace. Each child had a stick in hand, topped off with a marshmallow. Percy's heart sank as they all laughed, enjoying themselves completely, but not noticing that he was missing. So he slinked past the doorway, slipped into his snow boots, and silently left the house.

Heart heavy, Percy trudged through the snow drifts, shuddering each time the white powder came over the top of his boot. His main goal now was making it to the broom shed. He didn't keep a broom there, like all the other boys, but had lined a corner with blankets as a spot to read. The edges of the book in his jumper pressed hard against his ribs as he tried to pull his arms tighter around himself. Percy forced himself against the wind. The harsh, sharp air of winter made his cheeks ache and tingle. He turned back for a second to look at the house. It was practically obscured by the swirling snow, but the 10 year old could still see the shining windows. Percy screamed his frustration at being forgotten, but the wind snatched at his voice, pulling it from his mouth and away from the people that should hear it.

"Why?" He screamed, the only thing he'd managed to say all morning. "Why is it you all hate me? Why is it that I've been forgotten in my own house? Aren't you supposed to love me? Doesn't anyone miss me?" A sob ripped itself from Percy's chest, breaking his heart. Tears streamed down his wind bitten cheeks as he made one last mad dash for the shed.

Upon making it to the shed, the shelter he so desperately needed, Percy threw himself on his blankets to sob his fractured heart to pieces.


End file.
